Pictures Of You
by madeleine68
Summary: A series of A/O oneshots. They are kind of related as the story progresses. THE LAST CHAPTER IS UP! Please review!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Dick Wolf's. You know it.**

**This is kind of a different type of story than I'm used to writing. Here's a bunch of unrelated A/O oneshtos grouped into one. I think I'll add some more chapters of five oneshots each. Enjoy!**

"So can you get us the warrant?" asks Olivia, folding her arms.

I sigh. "Liv, I told you, there's not enough evidence to compel a warrant. Donnelly will kick my ass into next week for even _suggesting _it."

She smiles sweetly, planting a chaste kiss on my cheek. "I'll kiss it better," she promises.

Well, I can never resist that smile. So I pick up the phone and make the call. "Hey, Uncle Bill, it's Alex. I need a favor . . ."

And the look on Olivia's face when I hang up makes everything worth it.

* * *

My cell phone starts to play _Love Story _at three in the morning – country music, my secret vice. I snatch up the phone with a crisp, "Cabot."

"It's me."

My heart rate increases exponentially as it does every time I hear Olivia Benson's voice, but I force myself to focus on something else. "No judge in their right mind is going to sign a warrant at three in the morning, Olivia, and you're out of _your _mind if you think I'm going to ask one to."

She laughs. "That's not _all_ you're good for, Counselor."

The suggestion in her tone is clear, and I blush. Still, I try to match her seductive tone. "What else am I good for, Detective?"

"Come over and you can show me."

It's three in the morning, but I grab my keys and race out the door anyway.

* * *

"Alex," says Elliot, pulling me aside one Monday morning after Olivia and I have skipped into the precinct hand in hand, as infatuated with each other as schoolgirls. "About you and Liv –"

"Please don't," I say in that voice that leaves no room for negotiation.

He laughs. "If you break her heart, you'll be hearing from me."

* * *

We're lying on the couch watching a movie that I wouldn't be caught dead watching if Olivia hadn't given me her best puppy dog eyes. Her head is resting in my lap and I think maybe this is the greatest feeling in the entire world.

"Give me some more popcorn," demands Olivia, but then softens her words with a playful smile.

"Sorry, there's no more."

"What do you mean, there's no more?"

"There's none left," I clarify.

"Well, what happened to it?"

"I ate it."

She laughs, sitting up and grinning like a cat. "Not a problem." She leans forward and presses her lips to mine, smiling into the kiss. I close my eyes in the ecstasy of Olivia's tongue in my mouth, content to let her kiss me forever. But then she pulls away, flashing me the lopsided smile I love so much. "Mmm. Popcorn."

* * *

Olivia can never sleep in the dark. I don't know exactly why, but we always leave the night light on, even though I haven't used a night light since I was seven years old.

She also can't sleep through the night. Again, I don't know exactly why, but it isn't unusual for me to wake up sometime in the wee hours in the morning to find the space beside me vacant. The first time, I worried, and I got up to go look for her. I found her prowling restlessly through the kitchen and asked her what was wrong. She got this faraway look in her eyes and didn't answer.

Tonight, it's my turn not to sleep. And when she wakes up at 1:30 with tears in her eyes, I'm there to hold her and soothe away her fears. I may not know what causes her pain, but when I'm lucky, I can be there to soften the blow.

**Review for some more oneshots in the next chapter!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews; I'm glad you liked the first chapter. Enjoy this one!**

Elliot and Kathy are out on a date, and Olivia and I are babysitting his kids. The second we walk in the door, Dickie and Elizabeth run to Olivia, clinging to her arms and refusing to let her go. Even Maureen and Kathleen are excited to see her and basically ignore me.

Extricating herself from the twins' grasp, she smiles at them. "Hey guys, have you ever met Alex?"

They shake their heads and Elizabeth sticks her thumb in her mouth.

"Well, this is Alex."

Dickie flashes her a mischievous smile. "So _that's _your girlfriend."

Olivia laughs, tousling his hair. "That's right. She is."

* * *

Olivia convinced me weeks ago after a night of passionate lovemaking to sign up for dance classes with her. Well, it must have been after a night of passionate lovemaking, otherwise I must have been drunk out of my mind, because I never would have agreed to go otherwise.

That's how we end up at the dance studio of the local community center, waiting nervously to start a ballroom dancing class. "Why did you want to come here again?" I grumble to Olivia for the thousandth time.

"You'll like it," she assures me with a lopsided smile, planting a chaste kiss on my lips, then pulling away and grinning like a cat.

And even if I don't, that makes it all worthwhile.

* * *

"I brought you something," says Olivia with a sweet smile when she gets home from work.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Guess."

"I don't want to guess."

"It can fit in the palm of your hand, it's one of the most beautiful and sought after things in the entire world, and it comes wrapped in a box."

"Um, a necklace?"

She laughs. "No, silly. Chocolate!"

* * *

I wake up in the middle of the night to find her gone again. Heaving a sigh, I try to go back to sleep, but it's so difficult to sleep without Olivia's strong, warm arms wrapped around me. So I finally jump out of bed and creep into the kitchen. She's not there, nor is she in the living room.

Now I'm starting to get frustrated. The apartment isn't _that _large. Did she go out somewhere?

I freeze at the sound of a quiet whimper. Trying to gauge where it's coming from, I start in the direction of the bathroom. Sure enough, there's Olivia, curled up in a ball as soft sobs rack her body.

I know there's nothing I can do to ease her pain, so I don't even try. Kneeling down beside Olivia, I wrap my arms around her, rubbing gentle circles into her back. She cringes at first, but then leans into the touch, her sobs quieting then gradually subsiding.

Then she looks up at me, her eyes full of a pain I can do nothing to stop. That breaks my heart, so I do all I can. Kissing her tears away, I take her hands in mine. "Come back to bed?"

She nods, and then she does. Tonight, she falls asleep in my arms, her head resting on my shoulder. But I can't sleep. My heart is aching with a pain I don't fully understand.

* * *

Olivia has a variety of methods to convince me to do things she wants me to do. Sometimes all she has to do is give me her puppy dog eyes or flash me her gorgeous smile. Sometimes she whispers her request when we're in bed at night and sometimes she tells me when I'm too drunk or exhausted to argue.

Sometimes, though, she's wily, saying the words between fervent kisses, when I'll tell her anything to continue the contact. Talking about work during sex should be a major turnoff, but with Olivia, _nothing _is a major turnoff. I love her – and _making_ love with her – too much.

Tonight she's being a little devil, removing my clothes ever so slowly. I'm already so hot that I'm sure she can feel the warmth emanating from my body and all I want is for her to kiss me, to touch me, to be inside me. But she continues the exquisite torture, running her soft hands up and down my sides, then tracing an outline on my breast with her tongue.

Then she snakes her hands lower, pushing two fingers inside me, making me moan in ecstasy.

She smiles. "Do you like that, Alex?"

Gasping as she curls her fingers, I nod, too focused on what she's doing to my body to think about anything else.

"Uh-huh." She pulls her fingers out, grinning like a cat.

"_Liv_," I groan, pouting in disappointment.

"No, I just remembered something."

"What?"

"Elliot asked me to ask you to get us a warrant to search Granger's house."

She's so cruel. We don't have enough evidence. And she knows it. Liz will be angry at me for even suggesting it. But my body is screaming out for her, needing her so badly. So to Olivia, I say, "Yes, yes! Anything!"

She laughs, pressing a kiss to my lips again. "Okay."

And then she's inside me again and I think this must be the greatest feeling in the world.

**Review for some more oneshots in chapter three!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks again for all of your reviews! Enjoy.**

"I want to meet your parents," says Olivia out of the blue one night when we're in bed together.

"No, you don't," I tell her, continuing to scratch her back just the way she likes.

"Yeah, I do. They can't be that bad. They created you."

* * *

She's helping me with my nails, painting them a dark burgundy with infinite patience and focus that I don't possess. I've finally managed to stop biting my nails and Olivia promised me that if I went a month without chewing them, she would give me a manicure. I've succeeded and she's putting nail polish on my newly grown out nails.

"Stay still," commands Olivia for the hundredth time. "Your nails will look beautiful if you stay still. I promise."

Groaning, I try to force myself to stop fidgeting. I don't know how Olivia, who usually can't sit still for more than five minutes at a time, can handle it. Finally, I snap, "How can you tolerate this?"

"Shh," she says, not taking her eyes off my hands. "I'm savoring the moment."

"What moment?"

"Being so close to you."

* * *

We're playing chess, a game I've tried in vain to teach Olivia. She understands the concept; she can just never remember all of the pieces' different moves. She's just jumped her queen over two of my pawns to put my king in check.

"You can't do that," I inform her, moving the piece back. "How many times do I have to tell you that pieces cannot jump over others – except the knight?"

"It's so complicated," she huffs. "I would much rather do this."

She moves her queen forward so the piece is right next to my queen, then she presses them together, almost as if they're kissing. And I have to laugh.

* * *

I can't sleep. I keep replaying the day's events in my mind – the little girl I saw, who couldn't have been more than three or four, lying on a slab in the morgue. The detectives are used to it by now, but I've only been to the morgue a handful of times, and every time scars me a little more.

Sex won't help and neither will talking. So Olivia doesn't say anything, just runs her fingers through my hair, giving me the comfort I need right now. All I want is for her to hold me, so she does.

* * *

"We have a week off," Olivia says. "Let's go somewhere."

We've had this discussion before and it always leads nowhere. "Where?" I ask warily.

"I have an idea. Pack light and then we'll head to JFK."

I don't trust her one bit, but inexplicably, I do as I'm told.

She scans the list of outgoing domestic flights. "Okay," she informs me. "We're going to Knoxville, Illinois."

I stare at her as if she's lost her mind. "What's in Knoxville, Illinois?"

She shrugs. "How the hell would I know?"

**Review for chapter four!**


	4. Chapter 4

Finally, I bring Olivia to meet my parents. My perfect, proper, politically correct parents. We invite them to our apartment for dinner on Saturday, and Olivia laughs as I pace anxiously around the living room as we wait for them to arrive. "You're making me dizzy!"

"I can't help it!"

"What can you possibly be worried about? You spent the day cleaning the apartment. It's immaculate, and so are you." She pulls me onto her lap and kisses the crown of my head.

I try to extricate myself from her tight grasp, then give up the fight, sighing and leaning my head against Olivia's shoulder. "You don't know my mother." Then I hear a knock on the door and renew my efforts to get up. "Liv, it's my parents."

"Mmm." She nips my ear, which makes me laugh.

"What are you, a dog?"

She laughs too. "Okay, boss. Go get the door."

I jump up and run to answer the door, stopping before I open it to correct my posture and run a hand through my hair, making sure it's static-free.

My parents are standing in the doorway and I welcome them with a smile. My mother gives me air kisses, which is her standard greeting. "Where's this Olivia we've heard so much about?" asks my father.

"In the living room," I reply, and they follow me there. But Olivia's nowhere to be found. "Um, I guess not. Sit down. I'll go find her."

My mother gives me a strange look, but does so. I run to the bedroom and open the door to find her sprawled out on the bed.

"What the hell are you doing?" I demand, grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet. "My parents are here and _you're _the one who wanted to meet them."

"I was hiding," she explains.

I roll my eyes. "Why?"

"Well, the way you talk about them, I think I should maybe be scared of them."

I laugh. "Come on. And please _try _to behave while they're here."

She grins and plants a kiss on my cheek. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

Leah, the fourteen-year-old who was brutally raped and beaten by her mother's boyfriend, is pacing around the interview room with her arms crossed over her chest. She's making me dizzy, but Olivia's pacing with her, staying two or three steps behind, in as much of a nonthreatening way as possible.

Finally, Leah gets either tired or dizzy, I don't know which, and she dissolves into tears, falling into Olivia's outstretched arms as she cries.

Olivia holds her, just like she holds me when I have a bad dream or a bad day or a bad memory, in that soothing way that she has, the way that assures you everything's going to be okay. Finally, when Leah's sobs subside, Olivia whispers, "So, sweetie, can you tell me what happened?"

Leah nods, brushing the back of her hand across her eyes. In a shaky voice, she tells Olivia everything.

I watch them in awe, wondering again how Olivia can do this again and again, giving traumatized victims a sense of ease, just like she does with me. It's a gift she has.

* * *

I'm anxiously awaiting Olivia's arrival. She's an hour late coming home from work and she's not answering her cell phone. For the first twenty minutes, I thought I must have done something wrong, something to make her not want to come home tonight, but I can't think of anything I might have done. I tried calling Elliot, but he didn't answer his phone either. I stopped just short of calling Captain Cragen, not wanting to seem too overprotective.

But in our line of work, you can never be too careful.

I'm dialing the captain's number when I hear the door open. Dropping the phone, I run to the door, breathing a sigh of relief when I see Olivia standing in the doorway. Her hair is damp from the rain outside and she looks downright exhausted. And I know just as well as she does when silence is needed. So I just take her coat, hang it up for her, and guide her gently toward the bedroom. We lay in bed together, our arms wrapped around each other, trying with our bodies to create a cocoon of safety.

But neither of us is fooled for a second.

* * *

There's a vacant, far-off look in her eyes. She's lost and I have to find her, reach her, bring her back to me.

What a feat.

"Tell me what's wrong, _ma chérie_," I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself because all I want to do is wrap them around her, to hold her and soothe away her fears with gentle kisses.

The pet name seems to soften her, but only for a moment. "I can't," she murmurs. "I can't."

"I love you, Liv, and nothing's ever going to change that."

She gives me watery smile. "I know. I just . . ." She sighs, resting her head in my lap. "Hold me?"

* * *

We're in the living room, playing a slightly modified version of charades, just because it's a Saturday night and we can do whatever we want. Barring all unprecedented disasters, neither of us has to go to work tomorrow. I'm trying in vain to act out Albert Einstein, but apparently Olivia didn't take grade eleven science, because she seems to have no clue what e=mc² means. Finally, I give up, laughing at her frustrated pout.

"Who was it?" she asks grumpily.

"Einstein," I reply, planting a chaste kiss on her cheek.

"Of course." She rolls her eyes. "My turn."

Obediently, I take her place on the couch, watching in amusement as she pretends to sing into a microphone. Then she comes over to me and presses her lips to mine, pulling me into a deep, sweet kiss. I close my eyes and lean into the ecstasy, momentarily distracted from our game.

Finally, she pulls away, grinning like a cat.

"Are we going to finish the game?" I ask her, although I wouldn't mind for a second if we spent the night making love instead of playing charades.

She chuckles. "That was _part _of the game."

Staring at her in confusion, I stammer, "I give up. What?"

Laughing even harder, she says, "Katy Perry."

**Review for chapter five!**


	5. Chapter 5

"What are you doing?" asks Olivia, coming into the living room and perching on the edge of the couch.

"Reading," I tell her without looking up.

"What are you reading?"

I don't answer and she snatches the book out of my hands. "Hey!" I cry in indignation.

She examines the book, then convulses into fits of laughter. "The dictionary? _Really_?"

I blush. "Where else would I learn all those big words to torture you with?"

Still laughing, she flips the book open to a random page. "Yes, o pretentious one. Where else?"

* * *

Olivia spent the day at the mall with Abbie because I had to catch up on some paperwork. She bought a baby name book, just for the heck of it.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" I ask her, laughing, when she shows it to me.

She shakes her head and shrugs. "I just felt like buying it." She turns a few pages in the book. "Did you know that 'Abbie'means 'joyful father'?"

"What does your name mean?"

She rolls her eyes. "Olive tree. I already knew that, though. Boring, right?" She opens the book again. "Alex means 'defender of mankind'."

I laugh. "That would fit you better than me."

Her expression changes back to serious. "No. It fits you perfectly."

* * *

I'm sitting in the waiting room of Mercy General, folding my hands in my lap so they don't end up in my mouth. Olivia's having six stitches put into her eye because a perp lost his temper and attacked her. The doctor wouldn't let me into the operation room with her; my skills of persuasion did nothing to convince him when Olivia, bleeding profusely, didn't even look particularly upset. She wasn't crying or clutching her eye or putting on any theatrics, even though blood was dripping from her eye so viscously that it was making me feel faint.

Finally, Olivia comes out, a patch over her right eye. "Well, good thing I have 20/20 vision," she jokes with a grimace.

I manage to laugh, grabbing her and pulling her close. "You get the week off."

"Yeah, but you don't, so I'll be bored out of my mind."

"I can ask Liz."

She chuckles. "_Right_."

* * *

It's three in the morning and I'm still at the DA's office, going over some case files. I can barely keep my eyes open and I'm almost considering renouncing my boycott on coffee. _Almost._

There's a knock at my door and I'm praying it's not Liz, ready to give me hell for another petty infraction. Then it occurs to me that she's probably where all normal, rational people are at three in the morning – at home, sleeping.

"Come in," I call, a bit reluctantly.

It's Olivia, carrying two cups of steaming hot chocolate. "Thought you could use some caffeine," she says with a smile.

I accept the cocoa gratefully. "Thanks, Liv."

She pulls out a chair and sits down beside me. "Want some company?"

I do, but she should really get some sleep. "You're going to be exhausted in the morning."

She laughs. "So overprotective." She presses a sweet kiss to my cheek and, against my better judgment, I let her stay.

* * *

My parents and I have a tradition; when they get tired of their current car (which is about once a year) they give it to me, and thus they have an excuse to go out and buy a new one. Their most recent gift is a silver Lexus ISC, which I am ecstatic about. I promise my parents that I will treat the car with utmost respect, and then it's mine.

I drive back to my apartment, wanting to share the beauty of this car with the woman I love. I text her to wait for me outside the building.

By the time I pull up in front of our apartment building, Olivia's standing there, waiting for me. Her jaw drops when she sees the car. "Oh, my God! Where did you get _that _little beauty?"

"My parents," I reply honestly.

She laughs. "Princess. Can I drive?"

"No!" I exclaim, as if that's the most ludicrous thing I've ever heard. I hug the car keys to my chest protectively. "This is my baby. _Mine_."

She bats her eyelashes, giving me her most winsome smile. "I'll make it worth your while."

I can never resist. So what can I do? I toss her the keys.

**Review for some more oneshots in chapter six!**


	6. Chapter 6

One day, Olivia gets home from work brooding and irritable. She throws her coat onto the ground without bothering to hang it up, which makes me feel put out because I figure she's expecting me to do it for her. I resist the urge to act like my mother, call her back and tell her to hang it up herself. I recognize her need for solitude right now, so I silently put away her coat and fix her a cup of hot chocolate.

When I go into the living room to bring Olivia the hot, soothing drink, she's curled up on the couch, her head in her hands. As I carefully hand her the hot chocolate, she sighs and runs a hand through her tousled dark hair. "I'm sorry, Alex." Then, accepting the cocoa, she says, "Thank you."

I perch on the couch beside her, cradling my own cup of hot chocolate. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She sighs. "A twelve-year-old murdered her stepfather, who'd sexually abused her for years. Twelve years old! They just keep getting younger."

I wonder if that's the real reason why this particular case is bothering her so much, but quickly dismiss the thought. Not wanting to anger Olivia, I keep my mouth shut. Instead, I wrap my arms around her, giving her as much comfort as I possibly can. It's not much, but for now, it's enough.

* * *

"What's the longest word in the English language?" I ask Olivia conversationally, flipping through my new best friend, the huge Webster's dictionary she got me for my birthday.

She rolls her eyes. "What do I look like to you, an encyclopedia? Google it."

Shrugging, I turn through the dictionary pages until I locate the word I'm looking for. With a self-satisfied smirk, I look up at Olivia. "Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia."

She gives me a look as if I've lost my mind. "What the hell?"

"Fear of the number 666," I recite proudly. "Can you say it ten times fast?"

Shaking her head, she pulls me closer to her. "No, I can't. Now why don't you put your new toy away and I'll give you the best birthday present you've ever had."

* * *

We're at Central Park, taking a nice walk along the trails, when it starts to hail. I shriek and sprint toward the car, Olivia at my heels. "My baby!" I squeal, seeing the damage the car has sustained.

"It'll survive," replies Olivia disdainfully, climbing into the passenger seat.

"No, you don't understand. This beautiful car is _ruined_!"

Olivia laughs. "Get over yourself, sweetie. We can get it fixed."

* * *

I go with Olivia to her mother's funeral. Although part of me wonders how Olivia can feel any affection whatsoever toward the woman who hurt her so much, I understand that she needs the comfort I can bring her. So we go, sit in the very back and listen to everyone go on and on about what a great woman Serena Benson was. I know this isn't the truth, but sometimes I wonder if Olivia does.

She doesn't bother to go and greet her mother's friends; she takes my hand and we slink quietly away, almost as if we're ghosts. As if we were never there to begin with.

* * *

"Let's take a vacation," suggests Olivia out of the blue one day.

Playing along, I say, "Okay. Where should we go?"

She sighs, a wistful look on her face. "California."

I shake my head. "If we're going to go, we need it to make it worth our while. Paris. Florence. Vienna."

"What's wrong with California?"

"What's wrong with Europe?" I counter.

She laughs. "Okay. What about Jamaica?"

I make a face. "Too many goats."

Olivia convulses into a fit of helpless giggles. "_What_?"

"You know, those ugly four-legged animals with horns –"

"I know what goats are, thank you very much, but what's wrong with them?"

"There are marijuana fields all over Jamaica," I inform her, half quoting something I read somewhere once upon a time and half making it up as I go. It's past midnight and I'm exhausted. "So put two and two together. Marijuana and goats."

Olivia doubles over, laughing so hard she can hardly catch her breath. "Stoned Jamaican goats!"

**Review for more!**


	7. Chapter 7

"I have a tummy ache," whines Olivia, resting her head on my lap and propping her feet up on the armrest of the couch.

I kiss her hair and smile. "Then maybe you shouldn't have had sixteen chicken wings. What on earth possessed you to do that?"

She pouts adorably. "But I was hungry."

"That's right. And now you're sick."

She laughs. "I was gluttonous!"

She looks so proud at having used a fifty-cent word that I have to laugh with her.

* * *

I wake up one morning in Olivia's arms, and when I open my eyes, I see that she's smiling down at me. Brushing a few strand of hair back from my face, she says, "'Morning, sweetie."

I smile back. "Good morning."

"Guess what?"

The tone she uses makes me a bit skeptical. Olivia usually isn't this cheery at six in the morning. I hesitate, then ask, "What?"

"We have Thai food for breakfast!"

I stare at her as if she's lost her mind. "What are you talking about?"

"I got hungry at three in the morning, so I ordered in Thai," she explains.

"At _three in the morning_?"

"Yeah. Got to love twenty-four hour delivery. So anyway, by the time it got here I was too tired to eat it, so I put it in the fridge and thought we'd have it for breakfast."

I can't help but laugh. Olivia is just so . . . _Olivia. _"Then Thai food it is."

* * *

There are half a dozen roses on my desk when I get in to work. There's no note with them, but I know right away who they're from. I breathe in the sweet scent of the flowers and smile, thinking of the woman who left them. It occurs to me for a moment to wonder why, but I quickly brush the thought away. This is what she does for me sometimes, leaving little gifts that make my day when I find them.

I hear a knock on my door and smile to myself, assuming it's Olivia. "Come in."

It's not, though. It's Elliot. He's clasping and unclasping his hands, looking uncomfortable.

"Hey, Elliot," I say with a smile. "What's up?"

He clears his throat. "Liv wanted me to tell you . . . she won't be seeing you . . . she's . . . I can't really talk about it."

Then I understand. "Undercover?"

He nods.

I feel like crying. Why didn't she tell me? Sometimes her undercover stints last just a few hours, but I know that they can stretch on for months.

Then I remember last night, the gentle, beautiful lovemaking, the way she kissed a trail over my entire body and spent the whole night watching over me, holding me and giving me intermittent kisses. I hadn't understood; I'd thought it was just another one of her demons. But now I know. She was memorizing me.

I've already memorized her.

* * *

Today is the anniversary of my brother's death. He died when he was eighteen and I was twelve, in a car accident. He was drunk. We were always close; he was always protective of me and I adored him, admired him, revered him, wanted to be like him.

In the wake of his death, an emptiness appeared in my heart, a space that could only be filled by Andrew. But then I met Olivia, and although she couldn't replace my brother, she gave me something else to hold on to.

She knows that days like this are hard for me, and when I get home exhausted, with tears in my eyes, she gently guides me to the bedroom, undresses me ever so gently like she does sometimes before we make love, and tucks me into bed, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. For a moment, I feel like a child, but as she lies down beside me and starts to rub comforting circles into my back, I decide that I don't mind. The tears come and she holds me, letting me cry it out in her arms. It doesn't numb the pain, but it makes it that much more bearable.

* * *

I'm in that in-between land, drifting back and forth from sleep to consciousness, my body unable to decide which one it yearns for more. On one hand, I'm exhausted, but on the other, I'm in Olivia's arms, my head resting on her chest, and she's holding me so tightly that it's almost as if we're one body rather than two.

I'm almost asleep when I feel Olivia press a tender kiss to the crown of my head and so softly that she's barely audible, she whispers, "I love you, baby."

And I feel her heart skip a beat when I murmur, my voice thick with grogginess, "I love you, too."

**Review for chapter eight!**


	8. Chapter 8

"I don't care, Alex!" shrieks Olivia. "Just get us the fucking warrant, okay? I've had it with your stupid little games! This isn't about politics. This is about a little girl who was murdered. Murdered, Alex. _Murdered. _Now do as I say!"

"We don't have enough evidence to compel a warrant, Detective," I say through clenched teeth. "If you don't like the evidence, go find me some more. I can't do your job for you, and I'm not getting my ass kicked on your account."

"I'll kick your ass myself," she snarls, but it's not a threat, and I can't help but laugh.

That only enrages her farther. "Why can't you just get over your damn ego and for once in your life just do what you know is the right thing?"

I just stand there, my arms crossed over my chest, waiting for her to calm herself down. Finally, the fight seems to drain from her eyes, and she's back to being the Olivia I know so well, the Olivia I love so much. "Feel better?" I ask her calmly.

She smiles sheepishly. "Yeah." She wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a breathtaking kiss, and I can't help but smile at her antics.

* * *

I find myself being shaken awake in the middle of the night. "Alex. Alex!"

"What?" I murmur sleepily, hoping it's not another nightmare.

"Wake up!" says Olivia impatiently.

I open my eyes. "What's wrong?"

She points at a practically imperceptible spot on the wall. "Bug."

I roll my eyes. "You woke me up in the middle of the night just to tell me about a _bug_?"

"It's a spider," explains Olivia, as if that makes any difference. "It's a daddy longlegs. I can't sleep when it's crawling up the wall like that."

I get out of bed and flip on the light, examining the insect. "It's not a daddy longlegs, Olivia. It's a puny, harmless little thing." I pick up the bug with two fingers and set it in my left palm. "You're actually scared of _this_?"

She shrieks and pulls away. "Kill it!"

"That's cruel," I say calmly. "What's it done to you?"

"You hold that thing for one more second, you're not holding me at all tonight . . . or tomorrow . . . or forever," she threatens. "It's dirty!"

I raise an eyebrow, amused. "It's probably cleaner than you are."

She looks offended. "I shower every day!"

"It probably isn't going to _live _a day."

"It won't," she tells me. "You're going to kill it. Now."

Grinning like a cat, I pick up one of Olivia's running shoes and squish the bug with it. "Better?"

* * *

Olivia and I walk into work one day with identical smiles on our faces. John raises an eyebrow and Elliot whistles when they see us. "Hello Ms. Benson and Ms. Benson," says John dryly.

Olivia looks as if she might knock his teeth down his throat. I scrunch my face up, trying to figure out what he means, and then I realize it: Olivia and I are wearing two halves of the same locket, a gift she gave me last night.

* * *

"I think I'm dying," chokes out Olivia, doubling over with another coughing fit.

I rub her back soothingly and hold a glass of ginger ale to her lips. She obediently takes a sip, then groans, leaning back against my shoulder.

"I love you, _ma chérie_," I whisper in her ear, planting a chaste kiss on her lips, to distract her from the pain in her chest from her persistent coughing.

"You shouldn't kiss me," she says weakly. "I don't want you to get sick."

I kiss her again, longer this time, more insistent. "I don't care."

* * *

We're on our way home from the quaint Italian café at which we'd head lunch. Olivia begs me to let her drive, but I refuse. Finally, she says in a husky, seductive voice, "There's a better place in the car for us." She raises an eyebrow suggestively.

Stifling a giggle, I shake my head vigorously. "Absolutely not. Under no circumstances are we doing anything remotely improper in this beautiful vehicle."

She sighs theatrically. "I can show you something else that's beautiful. Maybe even more beautiful than your stupid car."

"If it's so stupid, why are you more obsessed with it than I am?"

She pouts. "Well, we've done it everywhere else except here. We've done it in the kitchen, in the living room, in the bedroom –"

"Okay! I get it. But you're still not getting anywhere near this car unless you're fully clothed."

Sighing again, Olivia climbs into the backseat. Slowly, she strips off her jacket. Folding it and placing it gently on the floor, her fingers move to the buttons of her shirt.

I turn around to face her. "Out!"

"Don't mind me," she says with a sly smile, pulling off her shirt so she's wearing just a lacy bra. "Drive, Cabot."

She's such a tease, but I can never resist. Taking the keys out of the ignition, I climb in beside her and pull off her bra, bathing her breasts with tender kisses. She starts to remove her pants and I help her, catching her self-satisfied smirk as I continue to undress her. She's won this round and she knows it.

**Review for chapter nine!**


	9. Chapter 9

We're at a bar across the street from the precinct; Olivia and I, Elliot, and Fin. John had a date tonight (or so he said – I'm not exactly sure whether or not I believe him). Olivia's on her fourth shot of gin tonic, and I can see she's a bit tipsy. When she kisses me full on the lips right in front of Elliot and Fin, I can see that having another drink is not a good idea. "I'm taking you home," I tell her, blushing at the show of public affection.

I start to take her arm to help her to her feet, but she shakes me off, stumbling a bit as she rises unsteadily. I catch her before she trips and put a protective hand on her back, leading her out of the crowded bar. A few people leer at us as we leave, but I give them my icy stare and they shut up, turning away and going back to their drinks.

I hail a cab, pushing Olivia in ahead of me. She's too drunk to even complain about my treating her like she's fragile. She just rests her head in my lap and within minutes, she's sound asleep.

* * *

We're posing in the living room, Olivia's arms wrapped protectively over my shoulders as Abbie snaps the photo. "Perfect," she says approvingly. "I'll get it developed and then we can frame it."

"And we'll put it right there," says Olivia, pointing to a spot on the wall, still grasping my shoulder with one hand.

Abbie brings the photo by the next day and I ask Olivia to put it up. "Just tell me exactly where," she tells me.

"A little to the left," I tell her as she wobbles precariously on the stool so she can reach the spot I want. "No, more to the right. A bit higher. Not that high."

"Next time, we'll hire a professional," she growls, but she's not angry.

Abbie laughs in amusement, perching on the couch beside me. "Are you sure you don't want it any higher, Alex? Then Olivia will need two stools."

I shake my head, then suddenly cry, "Right there! Stop. It's perfect."

Olivia hangs it and steps back to admire her handiwork. "You like it?"

I nod enthusiastically.

She smiles, planting a chaste kiss on my cheek. "Then it is."

* * *

I'm running my hands up and down Olivia's sides, enjoying the shivers rippling through her body at the gentle touch on her bare skin. "Alex," she moans. "I need – I need – I need _you_!"

I smile, tracing a finger over her breasts, then snake my hand down between her legs. I gasp at the wetness that coats my finger, pushing in.

Suddenly, Olivia's eyes widen and she pushes me away, wrapping her arms around herself and pulling back from me.

Alarmed, terrified that I've something wrong, I say hesitantly, "Are you okay, sweetie? We can stop if you want to."

"I'm fine, I'm just – I can't do this tonight, Alex. Just let me be, okay?" She pulls the duvet over herself and rolls onto her side, facing away from me.

I curl up into a ball as tears streak down my cheeks. I don't understand what I've done to upset her, and I need her right now, to hold me and reassure me that it's okay, or at the very least to tell me what's wrong. But I know she doesn't want me to touch her right now, so I don't. I grab a pillow, squeezing it tightly and pretending it's Olivia.

* * *

We're at an intimate French restaurant, sitting across from each other with serviettes folded primly in our laps, when I feel a pressure between my legs. "Jesus," I mutter, clenching my thighs as I feel them start to get wet. I glance up at Olivia and the smug smile on her face – and the fact that her hand is underneath the table, touching me – makes me blush.

She presses hard, then removes the pressure, tracing a finger lightly over me.

"Liv . . ." I murmur, half wanting her to stop and half wanting her to keep doing this forever.

Her grin widens and she snakes her hand down my thigh, circling it, then returning to where she was before. I feel myself start to get even wetter and I'm sure my panties must be soaked through. It's amazing what Olivia can do to my body, even through layers of clothing.

"Wait until we get home," I manage.

She smirks. "Is that what you want?"

No, it's not, but I nod anyway.

Olivia drops a twenty on the table to pay for our drinks. "Then let's go."

* * *

I feel gentle hands shaking me awake and I'm immediately alert. My eyes fly open and I see Olivia hovering over me. "What's wrong?"

She laughs. "Nothing. It's snowing! The first snow of the year."

My eyes adjust and I roll my eyes. "Liv, it's five in the morning." I roll back onto my side, ready to go back to sleep, but she stops me.

"Let's go down to Central Park."

"_Why_?"

"We can play in the snow."

_Is she serious_? "Okay," I agree, even though it's really the last thing I want to do right now.

We reach the park and Olivia flashes me her patented lopsided grin. "Let's make snow angels!" She lays down in the snow, smiling in rapture, but I hang back.

"I don't know how," I admit quietly.

She gets up. "Honestly?"

I nod, a bit sheepishly.

"It's not difficult," she says. "Just lie down and move your arms and legs up and down. That's the easy part."

Gingerly, I lower myself to the ground, wincing at how dirty it feels. Trying to ignore that fact, I do as Olivia instructed.

"Now try to get up without wrecking it. That's the tricky thing."

Ever so slowly, I get to my feet and stare down at the two angels in the snow, so close that it's almost as if they're holding hands, almost as if they're lovers.

_That's you and me, Liv_, I don't say. I just think it, and that's enough for now.

**Review for more oneshots in the next chapter!**


	10. Chapter 10

I wake up one morning to a loud bang. Terrified, I look over to the other side of the bed, but Olivia's not there. Her gun is lying on the bedside and I grab it, even though I have absolutely no idea how to use it, but if someone's hurting the woman I love, I'm sure I'll be able to figure out how to fire the gun.

I run to where the sound is coming from and breathe a sigh of relief when I find Olivia standing in the kitchen, looking slightly sheepish. The kitchen, though, is another story. There are bits of yellow covering it, making the biggest mess I've ever seen in any house I've ever lived in. "What the hell did you do?" I ask her.

She looks at the ground, then offers me a contrite smile. "I was making you breakfast."

"But what did you _do_?"

"Well, the stove isn't working, remember? We need to get it fixed. So I decided to make you eggs, but I couldn't use the stove, so I put them in the microwave. They exploded. As you see."

I can't help but laugh, pulling her close and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head. "It's okay. I'll clean it up."

* * *

I wake up one morning to a pair of chocolate eyes staring down at me. It takes me a moment, but then I get my bearings. Olivia's face is mere inches from mine and I have to laugh. "What are you doing?" I ask her.

"Watching you sleep," replies Olivia.

"I gathered that, but _why_?"

She shrugs, a smile quirking her lips upward. "You're beautiful when you sleep." She thinks for a moment. "And you're quieter, too."

* * *

"Happy birthday, Alex!" says Olivia when she walks in the door after work, carrying a box that I assume contains cake. She sets the box down on the kitchen table. "Take your pick: we can have cake first or I can give you your present."

"What's my present?" I ask with what I hope is a seductive smile.

Her grin is perfectly predatory as her hands go to her shirt. "Me."

* * *

She's sitting by her mother's grave, laying a flower on the headstone, a single tear coursing down her cheek. I'm a few feet away, watching her, wanting to run to her and throw my arms around her and kiss her tears away, but I stay rooted to the spot. Today, I'll wait for her to come to me.

She kneels down and bows her head, which shocks me for a moment. Is she _praying_? I've never seen Olivia do that before. She isn't at all religious . . . or so I thought.

I step a little closer to her and hear her rapidly whispering the words to a prayer I know well. ". . . darkness and false lights, against tears, depression, and above all fear . . ."

"Liv," I say softly and she jumps, and I can see the tears glistening in her eyes like tiny jewels.

"What?"

I shake my head as if to clear it. "I – I didn't know you went to church."

She glances up at me, a deer in headlights. "I don't."

Olivia Benson is a woman of secrets. But that only makes me love her more.

* * *

"If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?" asks Olivia. We're in bed together and my body is screaming for her, and I really don't want to do this right now.

Growling in frustration, I start to remove my panties. "Can we _not _play twenty questions right now?"

"Tell me! If you could have _anything _in the world."

I grin, stepping out of my panties and waiting impatiently for her to give me what I need. "You."

**Review for chapter eleven!**


	11. Chapter 11

We're going through Olivia's mother's belongings, sorting out what to keep and what to throw away and what has outlived its use. Olivia's discovered about twenty boxes in storage in her mother's basement, and we're going through them.

"Hey, Liv," I say, holding up a book. "Here's your high school yearbook."

She snatches it away from me. "Give it!"

I try to grab it back, but she's holding it over my head. Pouting, I whine, "_Liv_. I want to see what you looked like in high school."

"I had feathered hair. I'm much prettier now."

"And much more modest, too."

She ignores me and goes back to the boxes. Sulking, I do the same.

Suddenly, she lets out a cry of surprise. "Angel!"

I look up from the box I'm going through. "What?"

She holds up a white teddy bear with gold angel wings. "She was my teddy when I was little." She presses the bear's stomach and I'm shocked to see tears glistening in her eyes like tiny jewels. _I'm your guardian angel, _says the bear. _I'm your special friend. _She hugs the stuffed animal to her chest. "I used to hug her whenever I felt scared and she always made me feel better."

I glance ruefully at the bear. "What happened to her?"

Olivia's nostalgic smile disappears. "My mother was mad at me one day. She said she was going to get rid of Angel. She was drunk and she took the bear and threw her in the garbage . . . or so I thought. I was six."

Feeling a pang of sadness for my girlfriend, I wrap my arms around her. "Well, we can bring Angel home. Okay?"

She gives me a watery smile. "Okay."

* * *

Olivia gets home carrying a huge plastic bag, which she lays on the kitchen table. "What's that?" I ask her.

She shakes her head, flashing me a lopsided grin. "Nothing."

I hold out my hand. "Give it."

Inside the bag are at least forty individual packs of gum. Olivia's secret vice. I can't help but laugh.

"How much did all this cost?" She doesn't answer, so I snatch up the receipt to check for myself. "$69.83? What the hell, Liv! Why didn't you buy one of the big packs from Costco or something?"

She offers me a sheepish smile. "You can do that?"

* * *

We're lying in bed, that stupid little teddy bear between us. I know that the bear is special to Olivia, but she's holding it when she _should _be holding me.

But then she starts to murmur something in her sleep. All I can make out is, "Don't touch me! Please. No. No, no, no, no, no . . ."

"Liv," I whisper, shaking her gently awake. "Liv, it's okay."

She looks up at me, her chocolate eyes wide with fright. But then she glances at her teddy and it seems to reassure her. Instead of hugging me, she hugs the bear, squeezing it as tightly as she can until it says, _I'm your guardian angel. I'm your special friend._

"I know," she whispers to the stuffed animal. "I love you, Angel. I know."

The bear seems to calm her down and she hugs it to her chest, pressing a kiss to the teddy's hair.

I know that it helps her, but I can't help but feel jealous. She's kissing that bear when she _should _be kissing me.

* * *

"I need a new pair of shoes," I complain to Olivia, surveying my closet. We're going out to the theatre and I can't find a pair of heels to match my dress.

"Alex, you have more shoes than anyone I know!" exclaims Olivia, shaking her head. "You have too many."

I shoot her a disapproving look. "You can never have too many shoes."

* * *

Olivia's undercover again. She's been gone two weeks this time and my heart shatters into tiny pieces every time I come home to an empty apartment, an apartment that still smells like her. Remnants of my love litter the apartment, and I can't bring myself to put anything away, as messy as it may be. It's not like she's gone forever – she'll probably be back soon – but there's still a hole in my heart where she should be.

My cell phone rings and I'm so despondent that I consider ignoring it. It's a pay phone number, and I sigh, figuring it's probably a witness from one of my cases, saying she changed her mind and she doesn't feel like testifying after all. Nevertheless, I answer the phone with a crisp, "Cabot."

"Hey, princess," says the voice on the other line, and my heart skips a beat. "Miss me?"

I hardly dare to breathe. "Liv? Where are you?"

"You know I can't tell you that. And I can't talk for long. I just needed to hear your voice."

"I love you, Liv," I whisper. "So much."

"I love you, too, baby," she replies, then hesitates. "I have to go. I'll see you soon, okay? Say hi to Angel for me."

That stupid teddy bear. The one that Olivia treats like an actual _person_. "I did. She says she loves you."

Olivia laughs. "Bye."

"Bye," I whisper, and then the line goes dead.

Much as I resent her bear for taking my place, I fall asleep with the teddy in my arms that night. It makes me feel closer to her.

**Review for more oneshots in chapter twelve!**


	12. Chapter 12

The first time we made love, Olivia cried. I was exploring her beautiful, toned body, planting a trail of gentle kisses from her neck to her stomach, then all the way down her thighs. At first, she seemed to be enjoying it – I could see the glistening wetness between her legs and she was moaning her arousal. But then I snaked my hands further down, and her body tensed. I looked up to see tears streaming down her cheeks as she stood frozen, paralyzed, rooted to the spot. I stopped immediately and asked gently, "Liv, are you okay?"

She didn't answer, just stared at me, and I knew enough to stop. This wasn't consensual anymore; she didn't want it. I didn't know why, and I didn't know where she was right now, but it wasn't here.

We didn't try again for three weeks, and we didn't go all the way for eight more. But tonight, Olivia wants it. She gets home from work and flops down on the bed, pulling off her shirt. "Alex," she moans, unclasping her bra. "Come here."

I can hear the overt lust in her tone and it makes me smile, but tonight I feel like torturing her just like she tortures me sometimes. So I just grin and shake my head. "You know, I'm not really in the mood."

"Alex," whines Olivia, pouting up at me. "You know you are."

She looks so pitiful that I have to laugh. "You want something?"

She nods.

"How much do you want it?"

She gives me her sweetest smile. "A lot."

"Mmm," I say noncommittally, absently snaking my hand between her legs, making her groan.

She parts her thighs willingly and I enter her, smiling at the mewls of arousal she emits at the touch. I know just how to take her to a climax, but I bring her to the edge and leave her hovering, pulling my fingers out at the last second.

Olivia groans and tugs my hair lightly. "_Alex_."

But I just smile. "I have something to tell you, but don't be angry at me, okay?"

She nods her head in earnest. "Yeah, I won't be. Just –"

I press a finger to her lips. "There's not enough evidence to arrest Cardoza. We had to drop the charges." And before she can say a word, I'm inside her again, and she forgets whatever she was about to tell me.

I grin to myself. Two can play that game.

* * *

One night, Olivia's out at a stakeout with Elliot and doesn't get home until early the next morning. I'd been asleep, but I wake up at the sound of her soft footsteps entering the bedroom.

She silently changes into her tank top and sweatpants and for some reason, I keep my eyes closed like I used to sometimes when my mother came to check on me in the middle of the night to make sure I was asleep. I just feel like she doesn't want an audience right now.

She presses a soft kiss to my forehead before kneeling down beside the bed and bowing her head and murmuring a soft prayer. "Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the lord my soul to keep. Keep me safe all through the night and wake me with the morning's light."

She switches off the overhead light, turns on the nightlight, and hugs her teddy bear to her chest as she climbs into bed. It's become a ritual for her, the lights and then the bear, but prayer has never been part of it before.

Then it occurs to me how little I actually know about the woman I love.

* * *

I wake up on Christmas morning to find Olivia gently rubbing my back. I roll over to smile at her and she smiles back. "'Morning, Alex."

"'Morning, Liv," I reply sleepily, rubbing my eyes.

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," I echo.

"Don't you want to see what Santa left you?" she asks with an impish grin.

I roll my eyes. "There's no such thing as Santa."

She shrugs. "If you say so. I'm going to see what's under the tree."

I climb off the bed and follow her into the living room, where there are a hodgepodge of gifts beneath the tree, of different shapes, sizes, and colors.

Olivia hands me an oblong box. "Is this from Santa?" I ask suspiciously.

She laughs. "It's from me. There's no such thing as Santa, remember?"

I laugh with her and take the gift, gently removing its wrapping paper. Finally, Olivia grabs the box from my hands and rips it open. "What was that for?" I ask incredulously.

She shrugs. "You're too slow." She hands me the plain white box. "Here."

I open the box and smile when I see the gift. It's a beautiful beige scarf and I run my fingers over it. "Thank you, Olivia," I say, laughing.

"What's so funny?" she asks sceptically.

I hand her one of her own gifts. "Open this."

It's a beautiful beige scarf, identical to the one she's just given me.

Olivia laughs and wraps the scarf around her neck. "Great minds think alike." And she pulls me into a deep, passionate kiss that melts my heart.

* * *

I'm in court, dealing with a case that's been particularly trying. A man who raped his eight-year-old daughter. It took the fight out of Olivia and her exhaustion easily projects onto me.

I deliver my closing arguments and then it's over. I exit the courtroom, emotionally drained, and sit on the bench, burying my head in my hands.

I feel my cell phone vibrating in my pocket and have to fight the overwhelming urge to chuck it in the nearby garbage can. Instead I take it out and check my text message.

_i 3 u, princess. i miss u. liv_

The text message makes me smile and suddenly, I feel so much better.

* * *

Olivia wakes me up in the middle of the night, her face stained with tears, her eyes puffy and red. "What's the matter, _ma chérie_?" I ask her, sensing that this is going to be a long night.

She sticks out her lower lip. "Angel's sick. She won't talk anymore."

I suppress my laugh, knowing Olivia is dead serious, even though I think it's utterly ridiculous. "We can fix her. We have to operate and we'll replace her batteries."

"Will she be okay?"

I pull her close and whisper in her ear the words I know she needs to hear. "_I'm_ your guardian angel. _I'm_ your special friend."

**Review for more!**


	13. Chapter 13

I get home from work one day to find Olivia in the living room, flipping through a scrapbook I created for our first anniversary.

I perch beside her on the couch. "Hey, baby. What are you doing?"

She holds up the scrapbook. "What does it look like?"

I smile. "Anything good in there?"

She turns to a picture of us at my parents' summer house, standing a few feet from the ocean, arms wrapped around each other, smiling as the wind tousles our hair. "We had a great time there," she comments. "We should do it again sometime."

"Sometime," I echo, resting my head in her lap.

* * *

I get home from a shopping trip to find Olivia sprawled on the couch, watching television. "I bought something for you."

She sits up. "Let me guess. A book?"

I smile sheepishly and hand it over.

"Thanks." She flips to the last page and reads it. "Looks like a good book."

I have to laugh. "Why do you do that?"

"Well, there's no point in reading a book with an unsatisfying ending."

* * *

I stumble home after a difficult day just this side of sober. I know Olivia's not going to be pleased – not necessarily that I got drunk, but I got drunk without _her_. Sometimes I think she's a bit of a hypocrite because she gets drunk herself sometimes and then comes home and expects me to make it all better, but I understand her fear of making love when _I'm _drunk – I guess it reminds her of her mother.

She's waiting for me when I get home, and I guess I'm more intoxicated than I thought, because I can barely take off my clothes. Olivia winces, then gently removes my shirt for me, then continues to help me change into a tank top and sweatpants. It occurs to me why she's so good at this; she's probably done it many times with her mother. And then I feel bad for reminding Olivia of the woman who hurt her so badly.

I absently put a hand on her back and she flinches, which makes me feel even worse. "I would never hurt you, Liv," I murmur thickly, but I'm not sure if she hears me.

She nods and pulls me into bed beside her, wrapping her arms tightly around me. We don't make love, and much as I want to, I understand that this is the way it has to be. If it makes Olivia feel any safer, then it's worth it. Anything is.

* * *

Olivia comes into the living room and crawls onto my lap. I notice her hand is bleeding. "What did you _do_, Liv?" I ask, taking her broken hand in mine and hoping she didn't do an Elliot and start punching walls.

She sticks out her lower lip. "I got a mosquito bite. And then I scratched."

I bring her hand to my lips. "I'll kiss it better."

* * *

"If I died tomorrow, what would you say at my funeral?" asks Olivia thoughtfully.

I groan. "Why do you do this, Liv? It's two in the morning." I roll over and try to get back to sleep, but Olivia grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls gently.

"Alex! Really."

"Let go," I tell her in my firm prosecutor voice that leaves no room for argument.

She whines softly, but obediently complies. "Your hair is so soft. And pretty. It should be in a Pantene commercial."

I'm already awake, so I figure I might as well answer. "I would say how great you are in bed."

She laughs. "No, really."

I sigh and decide to tell her the truth. "I would say what a compassionate, courageous, selfless person you are and how much I love you." Then something occurs to me. "This is just academic, right?"

She nods, snuggling close to me. "Do you want to know what I'd say about you?"

I do, but I'm exhausted. Rolling over, I murmur, "I'm tired. Let me sleep."

She tells me anyway. "I would say what a strong, brilliant person you are, how you always stand up for what's right, and how much I love _you_. And, of course, how much I love those sexy glasses of yours."

**Review for chapter fourteen!**


	14. Chapter 14

"Can we get a dog?" asks Olivia out of the blue. It's another one of those random questions she's so fond of.

"I'm not deluded enough to think that my permission, or lack thereof, would deter you," I reply dryly.

She laughs, planting a chaste kiss on my cheek. "Smart girl."

* * *

I walk in to find Olivia in the living room, her hair much shorter than it was when she left this morning. I suppress the urge to groan in disappointment. "Liv . . . you cut your hair."

She shrugs. "Do you like it?"

"Well, I can't play with it when it's short like that," I complain.

She grins like a cat. "Would you be angry if I told you that was the point?"

I pretend to pout. "I would be incredibly offended."

She laughs. "There are other parts of my body I'd rather you play with, Counsellor."

* * *

We're at my parents' place for their anniversary. Olivia's never been there before and her mouth literally hangs open when she sees the house – rather, the mansion – I grew up in. "Wow, Cabot," she says once she's regained her senses. "I always knew you came from old money, but _really_?"

Smirking, I nod. "Didn't you wonder about the car?"

She shakes her head. "I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth."

And I have to laugh at her horrified expression when we sit down for dinner. There are three knives, four spoons, and six forks on our placemats. "What do I use?" she asks in an alarmed whisper.

I can't suppress my grin. "That's your problem, _ma chérie_."

* * *

She wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, tears streaming down her cheeks. I reach out to soothe her, but she doesn't want my comfort. She rolls onto her side, murmuring something inaudible, something that sounds like, "Not your fault, not your fault, not your fault."

She does this sometimes after a particularly bad nightmare, reversing her pronouns as she mumbles incoherently. It scared me the first time – I used to help out with special needs kids in high school and they were constantly reversing their pronouns, and Olivia reminded me of them. Then I realized that it had more to do with trauma than anything and it didn't frighten me so much anymore. "That's right," I tell her, folding my hands so I won't be tempted to touch her, stroke her hair or rub her back, because I know that will make her feel uncomfortable. "You _are _okay."

Strangely, this seems like the right thing to say. We've done this dance over and over, so often that we both know all the steps, but we never get any further than this. But today, Olivia surprises me. She sits up, staring at me through glassy chocolate eyes. "He's never going to leave, Alex," she whimpers.

I have absolutely no idea what she's talking about. "Who, Olivia? Who's never going to leave?"

She shakes her head, burying her face in her hands. "I can't, I can't, I can't."

"Okay, baby, okay. It's okay. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," I assure her, wanting so much to hug her, but knowing instinctively that I shouldn't.

She locks her eyes onto mine. "He hurt me, Alex," she whispers, fully in control of her words now. She knows exactly what she's saying and this is exactly how she wants to say it. And that scares me. More tears rush to her eyes as she says softly, "He hurt me so much."

I still don't know who she's referring to, but I do my best to comfort her. "He's never going to hurt you again, baby."

She shakes her head, giving me a sad smile. "He's dead. But that doesn't make the hurting stop."

Before I can think of something to say to that, she's rested her head on my stomach, brushing away a few stray tears, then closing her eyes. "Hold me," she whimpers, and I do.

* * *

Olivia's playing with that stupid teddy bear when I get home from work, dressing her up in a tablecloth she's cut so it's just the right size to wrap around a small stuffed animal.

I laugh when I see what she's doing. "How old are you, six?"

She rolls her eyes. "Shh, Angel and I are playing dress-up."

I shake my head in amusement. "Wouldn't you rather you and I play dress-_down_?"

She laughs. "You spit out the corniest lines sometimes, sweetie."

I smile at her in what I hope is a seductive way. "I'll bet it's more fun than playing with that silly little toy."

She pretends to think about it for a moment. "I don't know . . ."

"_Liv_," I pout. "Come on."

She raises an eyebrow. "Do I detect a hint of _desperation_, Counsellor? I never thought I'd see the day."

I growl in frustration. "I like to think I'm more fun than a stuffed animal."

She relents. "You are." She drops the teddy and starts to undress me, ever so slowly. I moan in agony, wishing she would hurry up.

"_Liv_."

"Shh," she snaps, bringing a soft finger to my lips. "Give me a minute and it will be worth your while." She snakes a hand between my legs, grinning like a cat as she squeezes hard, making me groan again.

"Liv!"

Apparently she decides to take pity on me, because then she's inside me, teasing me to the edge and then taking me all the way. I scream her name as I crash over the edge, then flop down on the bed, post-orgasmically dazed.

Olivia plops down beside me, propping her head up with one hand. "Wow," she says dryly. "I guess you enjoyed that."

"You think?"

**Review for chapter fifteen!**


	15. Chapter 15

Olivia's sprawled out the couch and I'm massaging her feet, which are blistered from a vigorous workout. "Have you noticed that almost all of our friends are coworkers?"

"Mmm," she agrees noncommittally,

"Well, there's Elliot, Abbie, Serena . . ."

"I know." She shifts to get more comfortable and closes her eyes. "It's because they understand."

* * *

"Where are you going?" I ask Olivia one Sunday morning. It's 7:30 and she's already dressed in a nice blouse and dress pants, sitting on the bed and staring at me.

"Church," she replies, as if she does this every week.

I sit up straight in bed. "Since when?"

"Since today. Are you coming?"

Well, that's a loaded question. I was brought up Catholic, but I'm not exactly sure where my beliefs are at. I don't even know where Olivia's beliefs are at. Religion isn't a discussion we've really had; it was never particularly important to us. Or so I thought.

I climb out of bed anyway. "Yeah. Let me shower first."

* * *

We're facing off in my office, again. I love her, but some days Olivia just drives me absolutely crazy with her blatant disregard for the rights of the accused. And the fire burning in my stomach isn't going to let her off easy just because we're girlfriends. Work is work and so it should be.

"Olivia, you can't arrest a person because you think he _might _have hurt that girl in the past and he _might _do it again in the future. You need _evidence_. You can't just go on a gut feeling. You know that. What the hell were you thinking?"

She glares at me. "I was thinking of that little girl. I want her to feel safe in her own bed tonight."

"Olivia, he might not have done it!"

"I know he did," she replies stubbornly.

"It's a premature arrest and it's not going to hold up five minutes once his lawyer gets here."

"Make it hold up!"

"I can't, Olivia. I have _no evidence_. If you want the arrest to stick, go find me some. Now!"

"Don't you order me around!"

"Then it won't stick," I say as calmly as I possibly can.

"It has to!" she screeches, halfway to hysteria now.

I realize that she's losing control and I try to cool down the situation. "I'm sorry, Olivia, but it won't. If he did it, there will be proof, and I'm sure you can find me some."

"We tried!"

"Then maybe he didn't do it."

"He _did_!"

"But if there's no evidence, how do you know?"

"I just do!"

"_You can't make an arrest based on a gut feeling_. You know that, Olivia."

"Don't patronize me!" she shouts. "He did it, okay? And you need to keep that child safe tonight. For once, do the right thing."

"Making an arrest that you know won't stick isn't the right thing. And even if we got it to trial, we would lose, and then _res judicata_."

"Stop it with that bullshit, Counselor. If you cared, you would find a way."

"Then tell me, Olivia, what is it that you want me to do?"

She just stands there for a moment, clearly considering. I seize the chance.

"_There is nothing I can do_."

She steps forward and I can see the fire blazing her chocolate eyes. I really want to step back, but I have to stand my ground.

To my absolute astonishment, she reaches out and _slaps _me. Not hard, but she's _angry_ and it hurts my pride more than anything. And it surprises me. This isn't Olivia. No matter how irate she is, she's never hurt me before. She doesn't even usually go off on perps; that's Elliot's forte.

I grab her arm and grip it tightly. "You don't touch me," I hiss. "That is called _assault_, Detective Benson."

Suddenly, she goes limp in my grasp. Tears start pouring down her cheeks and her knees start to give way. I have to grab her to keep her from falling and even though I didn't start this, I feel bad for my harsh words.

She buries her head in my chest, soaking my shirt with salty tears. "I'm sorry," she whimpers. "I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry. So sorry."

So what can I do? I pull her onto my lap and hold her close. I don't understand where this sudden anger came from, but then I think maybe I don't want to.

* * *

I wake up one morning and narrowly avoid a pillow that's soaring by my ear. "What?" I growl, opening my eyes and glaring at Olivia, who's standing at the foot of the bed, grinning.

She shrugs. "Nothing. It's morning. You should be awake."

I roll over and check the clock. "It's not morning! It's only 7:00. It's Saturday."

"But I'm bored," she whines, pouting.

"Then go back to sleep."

She climbs back into bed and fits her body against mine, wrapping her arms around me. "I can't."

"Then let me go back to sleep. Just lie here and be quiet."

She exhales deeply and scoots even closer to me, kissing my neck. "Okay. I'll just lie here and be quiet."

* * *

Olivia's knitting a baby cap when I get home from work. "I didn't know you could knit," I comment, sitting down beside her and planting a chaste kiss on her lips, but pulling away before she can deepen it. Just because.

She pouts at the loss of contact. "Well, obviously I can."

"Who's it for?"

She gives me a sweet smile. "Angel."

I groan and resist the urge to knock the knitting needles from her hands. "I'm going to kill that thing someday."

She wrinkles her nose. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me," I mutter, curling my hands into fists. Honestly, Olivia loves that stupid toy more than she loves me.

Then it occurs to me that I've turned just as crazy as her. I'm talking about killing a stuffed animal.

**Review for chapter sixteen!**


	16. Chapter 16

I get home from work one day to find Olivia spinning around in the living room in the new desk chair we've just bought. It's endearing in a childlike way, but I resist the urge to say, "That's mine," and instead ask with a mischievous glint in my eye, "Do you want me to spin you?"

She gives me a lopsided grin and nods. "Yes, please," she says sweetly. "But don't push me into any weight bearing walls."

Where does she come up with this stuff? "Honey, we're in an apartment. There isn't really any other kind."

* * *

I get home from work one day to find Olivia curled up on one edge of the couch, trying to make herself as small as she can be. "What's wrong?" I ask her, half amused and half concerned.

She points at an imperceptible spot on the couch. "Bug! Kill it!"

I roll my eyes and examine the creature. "Liv, it's dead."

"Kill it!" she repeats.

"I can't kill something that's already dead."

"Then exterminate it!"

I roll my eyes, but pick the insect up and obediently carry it to the washroom and flush it down the toilet.

* * *

We're babysitting the Stabler kids again, but only the twins this time. Their new hobby is Yu-Gi-Oh and they are, with varying degrees of success, trying to teach us how to play. "There are six different attributes on cards," explains Dickie. "Light, dark, earth, water, fire, and wind. But they might make a new attribute."

"No, they won't," Lizzie tells him, rolling her eyes.

"They could! They made new types."

"There are only six attributes of the _earth_," explains Lizzie patiently, as if she's speaking to a kindergartener.

"Well, there's an aqua-pyro type, so they could have a fire-water attribute," insists Dickie.

"Would that work, Olivia?" asks Lizzie. I love how they always ask her and never me; she's clearly their favorite.

Olivia thinks for a moment. "Yes. You put a toaster in your bathtub, you will get fire-water."

* * *

We're sorting through some more of her mother's boxes when I come across one filled with schoolwork. I start to rummage through it, but Olivia snatches it away from me. "Mine."

"I just wanted to look," I tell her, making my best puppy dog eyes. They don't work like hers do on me.

"I'll show you the one I'm most proud of," she offers.

"Sure." I figure I'll take what I can get.

She pulls out a multiple choice science test and hands it to me.

"But Olivia, you got a _zero_! I didn't know it was possible to get a _zero _on a multiple choice test!"

She sits back on her heels and grins. "Neither did my teacher."

* * *

"You have to drop the Velez case," orders Olivia. We're in bed together, our bodies touching, our fingers intertwined. "No good will come of sticking with it, Alex, and I love you. I want you to be safe."

I sigh. "I can't Olivia. I need to do my job."

"Alex, shut up about your fucking ego and stop being so fucking stubborn! No one gives a shit. If missing out on that fucking promotion will keep you alive another day, I'll take it."

I want to hit her, but I don't. I just get up and grab my pillow. "I'm going to sleep on the couch," I announce.

Her huge, sad chocolate eyes follow me as I stalk out of the room, but she doesn't make a move to call me back.

**Review for the final chapter!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Enjoy the last chapter!**

I'm on a plane, on my way to God-knows-where. My fault for not listening to Olivia when she told me to drop the Velez case. I should have done as she said. I should have spent that last night in her arms, savoring the moment. I never told her I was sorry. But how was I supposed to know it would be one of our last together? I miss her so much already, and it's only been six hours since I saw her last.

The image of her last night will be forever imprinted in my memory, trying to be strong for me as she always was. A single tear streaked down her cheek and she made no move to wipe it away. She'd given up the façade, and it hurt my heart.

There's so much I still don't know about her, and now maybe I never will. _All I have now, ma chérie, are pictures of you._

**Sorry if the ending was a bit abrupt, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. Review if you did!**


End file.
